Woke up feeling uncomfortable. Not depressed, not scared, not contented. Not satisfied. I think I was really confused by what Erica said. We were talking about me starting a women’s writing/support group. I told her about my conversation with Yvette, how she & a friend wanted to start a group. The question came up: “What do you want to get out of it?” Yvette’s friend said “I want to be inspired.” Yvette decided that’s what she wanted too. I said what I wanted to get out of it was finding other people who had experiences like me, so I wouldn’t feel so isolated. Or I would find out that people had different problems but still had pain in their lives. Erica said something describing what she thought I would get out of it. I wish I had written it down because it’s completely gone. I think she was describing the experience of someone much bigger than me, so different from who I think I am — who mother taught me I was — that I just can’t take it in. Can’t even remember it.
I think about my amnesia for the nasty things mother said to me. I seem to have a similar mechanism for shutting out the good things people say about me. But what mother said went deep anyway, whereas the good things seem to bounce off. What comes to me is that it’s just too painful to accept that I might be — might have been all along — not a “good” person, but an inspiring, exciting, generous one who changes people’s lives… and I have ignored her, disparaged her, tried to shut her down, been totally unaware of all the good she does in the world. Now I feel her near me, full of love, she puts her arms around me. I feel loved. I don’t feel forgiven, it feels more like it doesn’t matter to her, my thoughts didn’t hurt her. I think about Nadia saying that God uses not just our gifts, but our faults.
I wonder where Tiny is in all this. Is it Tiny who’s suddenly bigger than I am? I think of the Red Woman who expanded out of me in bodywork with Debra all those years ago.
I’m puzzling over “what does all this mean?” and “What am I to do?”
I think of the projects I started, full of inspiration and then ran down. Well, the box of stories went on for a while and then ran aground. When? When I got Damien? There was my excitement about Rob Bell and Father Greg. After I read their books, I was inspired for a few days, and then my excitement faded and I was back — not really in depression-land — but in some sort of grey flat place where there’s no color and no life.
No no NO I don’t want to sink back into that lethargy, I want to stretch into this new life, become that person who I don’t know and don’t believe I am. Erica gives me so much positive feedback. I feel like I’ve been hungry for this all my life, and then I don’t know what to do with it.
“And he will raise you up on eagles wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the sun, and hold you in the palm of his hand.” That’s what’s been singing itself in my mind. I think how what is scary is the idea of expanding when I don’t feel held. Maybe it’s the fear of mother attacking me.
This all feels like an enormous confusing tangle.